


Lily

by onlyasmallfish



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Cock Rings, Light Dom/sub, M/M, PWP, Sub Bard, Vignette, gentle Thranduil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 01:49:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9101035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyasmallfish/pseuds/onlyasmallfish
Summary: Thranduil wants to hear Bard's sweet song, but the bowman is a little more than shy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first semi-kinky thing I've written in terms of content, so let me know if it's too "out there".

Soft cream curtains with the faintest hint of green filtered the midday sunlight into a sleepy haze, filling the arching quarters of king Thranduil with a sense of sedation. The cloth hanging before the curving windows was uneven, as if the curtains had been pulled shut without much motivation, leaving a shred of noon light spilling onto the smooth wooden floor. The room was complacently quiet by itself, an optimal place to read or perhaps to nap, but the bed was slightly more than occupied at that moment.

The mattress dipped where a foot pressed down on it, stiff and stretched with pleasure, with the heel sinking into the soft grey sheets of the king's bed. Above it, lay two bodies; bare, though one completely at the other's mercy.

Bard gripped at the sheets, his knuckles turning stark white from the force of his fist. His body, stripped and peppered with love bites, lay before Thranduil, subjected to a simple but torturously pleasuring act. He writhed beneath the king, his face flushed and pupils dilated in bliss; though some might have found his placement the opposite of pleasurable.

A hard metal ring sat at the base of his sex, constricting to the point of come prevention, but not so that it was painful. What truly hurt, was the aching of his blood-filled cock, crying out for release but incapable of doing so. 

His legs spread wide and his back arching upwards from the soft mattress, he pushed himself down on what brought about such feeling, forcing it to go deeper. What pushed between his legs, however, was no object or toy, but the long fingers of the king himself, covered in oil and curling upwards into the bowman's channel. Two of them pressed hard on the small bulb inside him, sending bursts of stars to his head and making him gasp for air.

Thranduil lay beside Bard, propped up by his elbow as his hand delivered delicious agony to the darker figure. His pale legs, long and smooth, tangled themselves around one of Bard's, the contrast between them striking on the faintly colored bedclothes. His thin elven face, fair and intimidating watched his lover with interest, as one would do with a strange flower in the forest. A stray blanket lay over his lower body, barely covering his own attraction to the bowman, which he pressed readily into the latter's side.

Bard let out a strained moan, his teeth sinking ferociously into his bottom lip and his eyes closing as he tried to stifle his reaction. Though Thranduil often insisted that he show no hesitation and that none would judge the sounds he would make, the mortal ㅡthough he would never admit itㅡ was as bashful as a virgin maiden who had never been kissed. His cheeks bore the hue of crushed roses and his face was so lovely, Thranduil often thought of having it painted so that it could be forever immortalized in art. But alas, the bowman was shy; allowing not a single soul near the quarters where he was made to come undone, save for his tall lover who tugged at the strings holding him upright.

Even now, when they were utterly alone and fully at ease with one another, Bard could not let himself breathe the way his body so achingly wanted him to. There were sounds; moans and cries, teetering on the edge of his tongue, but he trapped them at his own expense. Even so, Thranduil was determined to draw them from his partner's lips. To pull them into the air until the chamber was ringing with their song. He pushed his fingers in farther.

"T-Thran-- duil," Bard choked out, his body curling in and forcing his chest into the air. He crushed his eyes shut and tried not to pant in moans. The king let a sly grin find his features and moved his free hand forward, his digits running through the dark locks that framed Bard's face. Some of them clung to the sides of Bard's cheeks and neck, held there by sweat from the strain he placed upon himself. 

"Yes, darling," Thranduil said, a reassurance of sorts. He leant towards Bard and placed soft kisses to his neck, closing his eyes and letting the heaving of Bard's breath fill his ears. He could feel the tightness around his fingers constricting the farther in they went, the heat deliciously compliant to whatever curve or prod he administered.

"Whatever shall I do with you?" Thranduil mused, his tone playful as he mussed Bard's hair. "You are far too lovely for me to handle, I must deal with you somehow. What do you propose?"

Bard simply groaned in response, entirely incapable of coherent thought, let alone words. He managed to comprehend the sweet words of the king, but he could think of nothing other than the fingers that speared him.

"Mmm, how about a third? Would that settle my dilemma?" Thranduil asked, his voice calm and level; a complete parallel to the agonized gasps of the bowman. Hardly able to even open his eyes, Bard nodded his head, the movement hardly noticeable. Smiling again, Thranduil complied.

He sat up carefully, ensuring that the change in his position hadn't hurt his lover before reaching behind himself for a discarded bottle. Taking the small phial into his hand, he expertly uncorked it singlehandedly, pushing on the top gently with his thumb until it came undone. He moved closer to the place where he was connected to Bard and began to gently extract his fingers from the tight little hole.

Above him, Bard let out a mewl, his hand magnetized to his own hip where he grasped his leg at the sensation. The smirk that adorned Thranduil's face grew slightly wider as he seated himself between Bard's legs, his two fingers now mostly exposed. Carefully, he placed a third digit next to them, aligning all three as he poured lubricant over them. 

Though he was not unfamiliar with oil-free activities, his darling Bard had only ever been taken by Thranduil himself, and was still quite delicate. Thranduil had been the lover of many in his long years, both experienced and otherwise, and knew of many ways to be pleasured. But with Bard, oh, his lovely Bard, he needed to be gentle, to be slow and loving. Though he longed to tie up his delicious partner, to blindfold him and and fill him over and over again until he cried out in tears, he knew he must wait. The small ring was the first of toys they had used, and though it had taken much persuasion, it was one step closer to the lovely things Thranduil ached to do to his ever darling bowman.

With these thoughts on his mind, the king looked up at his lover, stretched out before him like a fine wine simply begging to be drunk. He felt a shiver run through him as he readied his fingers, pressing them against the bowman's entrance. He moved forward, almost lying across Bard's body as he pushed them in once more. 

Bard's hand flew to his mouth, clamping down as it fell open. He tried to force it shut, but the bursts of orgasmic pleasure that pulsed through him were too much. He moaned into his palm, the sound stifled though still clearly loud. Thranduil's smirk grew to a grin upon hearing it and he drew his free hand up to meet Bard's. His long fingers slipped over the top of Bard's hand and tried to tug it away from his mouth.

"That's enough of that," he purred, pulling Bard's hand downwards. "Let me hear you sing." Bard whimpered, his body pulsating and his eyes dazed with the elven king's hands controlling him. With Bard's mouth successfully freed, Thranduil swiftly pulled the bowman's hand up above his head where it was joined by the other. Clamping his wrists together, Thranduil placed a breathy kiss to Bard's temple.

"I want to hear what I am doing to you," he hissed, drawing a weak moan from Bard's throat. He emphasized the last few words with a grind of his hips, pushing his own erection against Bard's inner thigh. 

Bard cried out, finally tipping over the edge and no longer able to stop himself. He moaned loudly, the sound a higher pitch than his regular voice and dripping with passion. He tried not to gasp Thranduil's name, but he no longer had control over his lungs as he was bombarded by sensation. He cried out for his partner endlessly, his breath rising in pitch and rate all while being tirelessly frought with pleasure. Thranduil pushed his fingers in and out at an increasing speed, and Bard subconsciously fucked himself on them, jutting his hips up and down in time with Thranduil's thrusts. Bard's eyes began to water, filling with tears as he moaned in a lengthy haze. His cries were like sweet music to the king's ears, like nothing he had ever heard before and to which not even the most practiced choir could compare. Thranduil found himself lost in them, pushed very near to his own end when Bard's urgent and nearly pained voice pushed into his mind, high and desperate.

"Ah! Ah! Please!" Bard cried, tears streaming down his face as the strain on his cock increased. It twitched beneath Thranduil's thigh, desperate for release. The king looked into his lover's pleading face as tears trickled from the corners of Bard's eyes. He felt his heart falter for a moment and he became horribly afraid that he was causing Bard pain. 

Without so much as another plea for salvation, he pulled his fingers from Bard's channel and switched them to the metal ring. Bard cry was almost a sob as Thranduil stroked his erection briefly before swiftly removing the cock ring. The change was so quick that Bard barely had time to breathe before screaming aloud as his release burst from him. It splattered across his stomach and chest, the white streaks even finding their way to fall onto Thranduil before he was done.

"Oh, meleth, I am so terribly sorry," Thranduil exclaimed, casting the ring away and pulling Bard close to him. The shorter man melted into his arms, his breath heaving and his eyes closing. His body was spent and his throat nearly hoarse, he cuddled into Thranduil's arms as he waited for his breath to calm. After a moment, he looked up into his lover's worried face, his eyes clouded.

"Why didn't you ask me to stop?" Thranduil inquired, his voice soft and urgent. "I would have... I didn't know I was hurting you, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Bard replied, though his words were slow and measured. He placed a finger to Thranduil's lips and shook his head. "You weren't... hurting."

Thranduil closed his eyes and let out a sigh of relief, his arms pulling Bard in closer as he gently kissed the finger that lay across his lips. He brought one of his hands up to grasp Bard's, keeping the bowman within his embrace protectively, like a mother cocooning her child. He leaned into Bard's hand briefly before dropping it and moving to cup his partner's sweat and tear-streaked face.

"I must still be gentle with you, my darling," he whispered, his eyes closed as he nuzzled the side of Bard's nose. "You are like a delicate lily, my love. So beautiful yet seemingly so untouchable." 

Bard smiled a little less sleepily, his fingers finding Thranduil's hair and slipping through it absently. "A lily can withstand a storm or two you know," he responded, his voice just as quiet. "And I don't mind being subject to one."

Thranduil opened his eyes and looked fondly at Bard, still reveling in the lovely thing he held in both his arms and his heart. "Ah, but I cannot be a storm to you," he said with a smile. 

"Why not?" Bard inquired. He played with Thranduil's soft locks, tugging some of them out of place to hang in front of the king's face.

"Because I love you far too dearly, my sweet bargeman," Thranduil said, chuckling slightly at the hair Bard was pushing into his face. He let him continue to muss the silvery strands, all while moving his hand farther out to gently stroke Bard's high cheekbone. He gazed lovingly at the man in his arms, a contented smile frozen on his face before leaning in to press a small kiss to his slightly parted lips.

"I hope you don't intend on meeting any new bargemen," Bard teased after allowing himself to be kissed. "I don't fancy having to compete for the affections of Mirkwood's sex-god of a king."

The combination of the odd phrase, the teasing and Bard's utterly adorable innocence sent Thranduil bursting into laughter. His deep, shining laugh bounced off the high walls of his chambers, a sound that could only be described by the dusk on midsummer. Still laughing, he planted another handful of kisses to Bard's face, entrapping him in his long arms.

"What am I ever going to do with you, my dearest Bard?" he laughed. Bard, who was no longer sleepy, smirked at his lover.

"Let me top next time," he said with a sense of determination. Thranduil's laugh faltered slightly in surprise, but before he could do anything about it, Bard pushed his shoulder and sent him tumbling onto his back. The bowman clambered on top of Thranduil's waist and pressed a kiss to his mouth. When he pulled away, he looked down at his astonished partner with playful eyes. He dropped his shoulders and inched forward, pressing his lips near to Thranduil's ear to whisper:

"Have you ever heard of a tiger lily?"


End file.
